


Cherry Red

by snarkasaurus



Series: Affliction of the Feeling [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Multi, Paddling, Polyamory, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Derek’s turn. Maybe. After some negotiation and discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Red

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jae for the quick read over! Any remaining mistakes are mine (and if you find one, please let me know!)

The sunlight coming through the open window warmed Stiles’ face, and woke him up. He was confused, because their bedroom window faced west, so if the sun was hitting him in the face, it meant... “Holy crap, its four o’clock,” he muttered, squinting and blinking at his phone dock. It glowed placidly at him, offering hard evidence of his sloth. “I slept for twelve hours?”

“Considering you’ve had insomnia for a week and a half now, that’s not a huge surprise, right?” Isaac said quietly, and Stiles realized he was still lying on his boyfriend.

“S’pose not,” Stiles said with a yawn, and rolled to stretch. He rolled back again when he was done, tucking himself back against Isaac’s side. “Don’t usually crash like that after a round of insomnia, though.” He watched his boyfriend’s face.

Isaac looked shy; a little worried, but not at all upset. “You don’t normally lick my ass so open that you can go straight to fucking me, nor do you usually pull me apart and put me back together emotionally,” he offered.

Stiles let his hand drift up to cup Isaac’s face. He had long ago learned to let the casual affection show with his wolves. It grounded them more than they were willing to let on. “How did it make you feel?” he asked quietly.

Isaac didn’t answer right away. Because he didn’t look like he was trying to evade or prevaricate, Stiles let him have his silence. Eventually, he said, “It made me feel good. Like...you were really paying attention to me, and hearing me even if I wasn’t saying much.”

Stiles frowned at that. “Do you feel like I don’t usually listen? Like we don’t listen?”

“No, it--” Isaac cut himself off, shaking his head as he frowned. “No, that’s not what I meant. You...It’s more like you guys were focused on me instead of spreading the attention around, and I knew that all I had to do was twitch, and I would have had...whatever I wanted.”

That made Stiles feel a little better, but something still niggled at him. “Isaac, you know that you can always have what you want, right? Even when we’re not...doing that. When I’m not taking control.”

Isaac shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah...” he said, trailing off into silence.

“Isaac?” Stiles asked after a moment or two.

“Sorry. I just. I don’t know how to ask.” Isaac looked sad and a little embarrassed. “When I use to ask, it got me a fist to the side of the head or... I got out of the habit of asking for what I want, is the point.”

Stiles slowly pushed himself upright, careful not to actually pull away from Isaac, just shift positions so that he could actually look Isaac in the face. “Have we made it hard to ask for what you want in the time we’ve been together?” he asked. He sincerely wanted to know, because if the answer was yes, then they had failed as partners and friends. If the answer was yes, he was also going to have to do something drastic like deprive himself of first run at the comics when it was his turn, as penance. The dramatic things, obviously.

“No,” Isaac said immediately, and so firmly that Stiles believed him. “This has nothing to do with you or with Derek or with how either of you have treated me. This is all me, all in my head. Please don’t feel guilty.”

Stiles gently stroked Isaac’s stomach. “All right, I believe you...but that’s something that needs fixed, babe. For yourself.”

Isaac watched Stiles’ hand for a long moment. “Do you think...” he asked, his voice hesitant and careful. “Can we do it like we did last night?”

Stiles was a little surprised at the request. “You mean...by pushing you to ask for what you want?” he asked.

Isaac bit his lip, and Stiles had to restrain himself from kissing it. It was entirely unfair how hot Isaac was. “I mean by the whole positive reinforcement thing. Coaxing me to ask for what I want by refusing to give me anything until I ask for it.”

“Which part did you like the most?” Stiles asked. The answer would be telling, and also let him know if this would work. Master James had spent a fair amount of time educating him on how to read people, but if it was possible he’d spent even more time on the care aspect, teaching him how to identify what was needed and if it was something that could actually be done. Stiles could almost hear the voice in his head.

_”Stiles, you have to know if a person is actually capable of maintaining the kind of mental space it takes to be a submissive. It’s an attitude, an approach to thinking that isn’t quite normal. That’s not to say it’s bad, simply that it’s not common. Not uncommon, either, but...”_

_“So what you’re saying is that weird-but-not-weird people are totally down with getting their asses turned red?” Stiles asked with a cheeky grin. Considering he’d been tied to a spanking bench at the time for a lesson in the different types of implements, it probably wasn’t the best thing he could have done._

_“What I’m saying,” Master James had said lazily, once he was done disciplining Stiles for his smart mouth, “is that people will give you different clues, and some of them will think they can be submissive and can’t, some will think they’re dominant when they’re submissives, some are truly switches, and some pay it lip service but aren’t really meant to participate in the scene. It’s your job, as a dominant, to be able to recognize what is in front of you when it’s being offered to your care.”_

Isaac was still watching Stiles’ hand. “I liked that you took control from me, and gave me no choice but to admit what I wanted,” he finally said, his voice low. He was starting to get an erection; Stiles could see the blankets tenting a little. “You pushed me to what...what I knew I needed to do, which was to speak up for myself, but you did it without making me feel bad about myself.”

Stiles felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even known they’d tensed up while he was waiting for Isaac’s answer. This meant more to him that he’d thought. “And you liked that?”

“I did. It meant...it means you care. That you love me.” Isaac looked up at him shyly. “I know that you do. I know that Derek does. Somehow, it was more real last night.”

Stiles leaned in and gave him a very soft kiss. “I do love you,” he said. “And if you think this is something you want to do, then I think we can work on it.”

The smile Isaac gave him was blinding, and the kiss was deep and needy. Stiles let it happen, in part because it was what Isaac needed, but just as much because it was what _he_ needed. Plus Isaac was just a really good kisser, and Stiles would never turn one down.

“As pretty as that is, I could use some help downstairs, and you should both probably shower,” Derek said from the doorway. Stiles turned his head, not pulling away from Isaac, and raised an eyebrow. Derek raised one right back.

“So do you want us to shower or do you want help with dinner?” Stiles asked.

“Both. Pick one, the other does the opposite,” and Derek turned and left.

Stiles looked at Isaac. “He’s grumpy.”

Isaac snorted. “He’s always grumpy.”

“Sourwolf,” Stiles agreed, and reluctantly got out of bed. “I’ll go down and help him. You can have the first shower.” He reached for the shorts that had been flung the night before, and pulled them up. As they slid over his hips, large, warm hands were pressed against his skin as Isaac tucked himself against Stiles’ back.

“I love you, too,” Isaac said, nuzzling Stiles’ throat for a moment, and then he let go, headed for the shower.

Stiles made his way down to the kitchen, feeling warm and fuzzy. He padded into the kitchen and straight to Derek, pressing his face against Derek’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Whatcha makin’?” he asked, eyes closed as he soaked in Derek’s warmth.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” Derek said, tilting his head a little so Stiles fit better. “Need your help with the garlic bread.”

“Only if I get a kiss,” Stiles declared, grinning at Derek’s mock huff. He got his kiss, though, an exceptionally thorough one that left him a little breathless. “Well. I’d say that’s earned some garlic bread.”

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to the sauce he was compounding. “Isaac okay?”

“Yeah, he’s all right. He wants to keep doing this, though,” Stiles said, getting the butter out of the fridge. “What we did last night, I mean.”

Derek was quiet for a while, and Stiles let him be. He’d learned long ago that while Derek could be taciturn or garrulous, depending on the situation and his mood, when he was working through things, he needed to not talk. He didn’t need Stiles’ endless verbalized thought processes to work things out.

Stiles could respect that. Everyone worked differently. He knew that that was true for more in the bedroom, with the difference between Isaac and Derek of what they needed. He pulled the bread that Derek had already pulled out over to him and started slathering it with butter. He could do this in silence if that’s what Derek needed.

“What is this going to do to us?” Derek finally said.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, looking up from sprinkling garlic powder thickly over the bread.

“Doing this stuff...in the bedroom. Is this gonna change what we do? Who we are? Is this going to be an all the time thing?” The questions poured out of Derek.

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Stiles said, setting the bottle down and focusing on Derek completely. “Slow down. This doesn’t...” He paused, because saying that this wasn’t going to change anything wasn’t true. “This doesn’t have to be an all the time thing. This will be exactly what we want it to be and nothing more.”

Derek was quiet a little while longer, dumping the pasta into the boiling water. “How do we decide that?”

Stiles put the bread in the oven and grinned at him. “We do your favorite thing in the world. We talk.”

Derek didn’t answer, but Stiles could see the tension in his shoulders. He let it alone. There was going to be enough time to talk over dinner. He got plates out of the cabinet, and started setting the table. Isaac joined them before too long, taking over when Stiles handed him the forks. “I’m going to go take the fastest shower known to man,” he told them, and ran up the stairs.

Five minutes, and one rather strenuous self pep talk later, Stiles was jogging back down the stairs. He hit the kitchen just in time for the bowl of pasta to hit the table, and to see Isaac taking the garlic bread out of the oven. He grabbed the knife and cut up the bread while Derek brought the sauce to the table and Isaac poured them drinks, all in silence. Companionable silence, not all that different from some evenings they’d had, but Stiles didn’t try and fill this silence up with talk. It wasn’t worth it. Not when everyone needed to process.

“So, how does this start?” Isaac finally asked once they all had full plates, prepared for their own personal preferences.

Stiles spared a moment to look at their plates. His own, organized chaos, noodles and sauce and cheese all mixed together. On Isaac’s, a large pile of pasta with a small amount of sauce, neatly sliced for small bites with no spinning. Derek’s plate was almost the opposite, with a proportionately massive amount of sauce for the pasta on his plate, and the whole thing smothered in cheese. He twirled his fork, using a chunk of bread to brace it, and got a large mound of spaghetti ready for his mouth.

“The first question is, is this what you want? To have me in control and both of you giving that control to me?” Stiles asked, his tone measured and carefully neutral. The pasta twirler and the pasta cutter both paused.

“I do,” Isaac said pretty much immediately. “You know I do, I told you that.” He looked at Derek. “Last night was...incredible. It’s what I needed, and I want more. A lot more.”

Derek twirled a pile of spaghetti for longer than necessary, obviously thinking. “You liked giving up control?”

“I liked having it taken, and being left with no choice but to give in,” Isaac said.

Stiles nodded. “There’s a difference,” he confirmed, “and a lot of it is personal approach. Derek, you would be giving up control to me. For one, I’d never try and take it from you. It’s too important to who you are as a person, let alone everything else. If we did this, it would very much be you putting control into my hands.”

Derek frowned slightly. “But what about...” he trailed off, but Stiles didn’t jump in. He was too use to Derek doing that when he was processing things and working them out in his head before he spoke. He just kept eating waiting for Derek to figure things out in his head. “I still have control if I’m giving it to you, don’t I?” he finally asked.

Stiles grinned. “I was wondering if you’d figure that out on your own. That’s very true. Submissives generally have all the power in a relationship like this.”

Isaac thought about that, but it was Derek who spoke up. “Because they’re the ones giving control to the dominant, and they’re the ones that can control the scene, right?”

“In general terms, yeah,” Stiles said, nodding. “Master James, the dominant that trained me, pointed that out to me one day. While I control a scene as far as how it plays out and what we do, I play by your rules. Even if I’m the one that calls a stop, it’s because of you. Your ability to take what I give you.”

Something in that visibly settled Derek. His shoulders settled back to where they were supposed to be, and only then did Stiles realize just how far drawn up they had been. He wondered how much of what Derek was thinking this was about related to past situations, like Kate fucking Argent.

“Derek, I said last night that you would need a harder, more physical approach, right?” He waited for Derek’s nod to tell him that he had Derek’s attention. “What do you think that means?”

“Well, you talked about what you’d use on me, so I assume that’d mean you’d hit me.”

Isaac frowned. “Hit?”

“There’s no real good word for it,” Stiles said with a wince, “but use different implements on him, like a flogger or a crop or a paddle. Not hit as in beat him. Not abuse.” he reached over and gently touched Isaac’s arm. “Hit is the word because there isn’t a better one, that’s all.”

Isaac caught Stiles’ hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for explaining. I didn’t think you meant it in the abuse way, I was just trying to figure out what you _did_ mean. Because you’re right, that’s not the best word.”

“What about other things?” Derek asked, not looking up from his plate.

Stiles turned his attention back to Derek, to try and read his body posture. “If we do this, it’s always open for negotiation,” he said. “If there are things you want to try, either of you, say something, and we can do that. Same as with me.” He took a deep breath. “Like piercings. I’d love to see you pierced, Derek. You, too, Isaac, if you’d let me.”

Both of his boyfriends jerked their heads up and oriented on him unerringly. “Piercing?” Derek said, nostrils flaring. “What kind?”

Stiles firmly told himself not to squirm. “Nipple piercings, maybe a navel piercing. A corset piercing...maybe a frenulum or a Prince Albert, or...oh, a guiche?”

Isaac blinked. “I have no idea what a frenulum or a guiche piercing is, but I’m assuming they involve my dick,” he said bluntly. “Don’t know what a corset piercing is, either.”

“A frenulum piercing is through the tissue at the head of the penis, the connective tissue. Corset piercings...it’s like the back of a corset. Just on the body.” Derek said all of this, staring at Stiles. “Do you know how to do the piercings?”

“The surface ones. I’d need more training on the genital ones,” Stiles said, not even trying to stop the shift as he readjusted the crotch of his pants.

“If you learn, you can do them,” Derek said, eyes still locked on Stiles.

Isaac swallowed audibly. “Guiche piercing?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Stiles managed to tear his eyes away from Derek’s face to look at Isaac, who looked just as turned on, holy shit. “Perineum piercing,” he said, taking a drink because his mouth was suddenly dry. “It would be perfect for you. We could play with it while we opened you up.”

Isaac nodded shortly. “What Derek said, then.”

“Fuck,” Stiles said, letting out a breath. “We’re doing this, then? You’re accepting me as your dominant?” He’d hoped they would, once he realized that this was a thing that could happen, as far as their reactions to things that had been happening over the course of their relationship. Hope had strengthened yesterday. Now, reality was here, and they were...they were both nodding, and suddenly, Stiles was lightheaded with arousal and trepidation. “Okay. Okay, rules. These are my rules that never get broken.”

“Wait, your rules?” Derek frowned. “I thought that we talked about this.”

“Negotiation is a good thing, and will absolutely happen, Derek, but remember what I said about control? Just because you’re in control doesn’t mean I don’t have some, and everyone has hard lines they won’t cross. Like I will never strike Isaac unless he specifically asks me to.”

Isaac’s eyes widened a little. “Like...with your hand?”

“With anything.” Stiles kept his voice firm. “Hand, implement, _anything_. Obviously, if I accidentally catch you while I’m doing something with Derek, it’s unintentional, but I will stop and make sure you’re okay.”

Isaac smiled slightly. “I’m not that fragile, Stiles. You won’t have to do that. Would you...you would spank me if I asked, though, right?”

Stiles groaned. “Yes. If you asked, and I was sure it was what you wanted, I would spank you.” The thought of turning Isaac’s ass red and then fucking him until they were both insensate was heady.

“But me, you’ll use all kinds of things on,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. “Because you think I won’t give in to you.”

Stiles shook his head. “No. You'd give in to me, Derek, and you know it. I’ll do it because I want you to give it up for me. Whatever the it is at the time. Control, something dark in your head that’s eating at you, a bad day...” he paused, looking for the words to pt this properly. “This can be a lot like a therapy session, if it’s done right. Purging out the bad things and learning how to let them go, like you would with a therapist. Different kind of coping mechanism, but no less effective.”

“You mentioned something about sub space or head space or something,” Isaac said. “Last night. Today? Last night...”

“I think it was last night,” Stiles said. “What about it?”

“What is it?”

“It’s different for everyone,” Stiles admitted. “I’ve heard it described as a head going quiet, feeling really floaty, feeling disconnected, or even just feeling a little like a puppet, in control but someone pulling the strings. Basically, though, it’s the place where you’ve finally let go, finally given it up, and you’ve surrendered everything to your dominant and trusted them to catch and care for you. It’s not always easy to get to, and not every dominant can put every submissive into their subspace, but when the matchup is good...”

“Or when there’s already a lot of trust there?” Derek said his voice quiet.

“That definitely helps.”

There was quiet for a long moment, all of them working on their dinners, while Derek and Isaac worked through what Stiles had told them. Every so often, Stiles would hear an intake of breath, like they were going to ask a question, but the words never came. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, Stiles reflected, as he scraped the last of his sauce up with a piece of bread. It was just a processing silence. The good kind.

It wasn’t until they were starting to do the dishes, Stiles at the sink, Derek putting away the leftovers, and Isaac cleaning up the counters, that anyone spoke again. “Can we try it tonight?” Derek asked.

Stiles nearly dropped the plate he was slotting into the dishwasher. “You want to start tonight?” he repeated, looking up. “With you?”

Derek nodded shortly, back still to Stiles.

Stiles frowned thoughtfully. “Yes, but I have to know this is what you actually want.” Derek’s body language, the closed off way he was asking didn’t bode well.

Derek hesitated, but turned around. His cheeks were flushed, and...Oh. Stiles couldn’t stop the grin when he realized that part of the reason Derek hadn’t been facing him was to hide just how hard his dick had gotten while he was thinking about it. “I want this, Stiles.”

Ignoring Isaac’s strangled moan, Stiles stayed focused on Derek. “What do you want me to do?”

Derek’s teeth clenched. Stiles could see the flexing in his jaw. “I want you to spank me, and then I want you to fuck me.”

“Do you want me to spank you with my hand or with something else?” Stiles asked, his voice dropping to his dominant’s range.

Derek shuddered almost imperceptibly. “Your hand and then an implement. And then your dick in my ass because I am going to need you to fuck me.”

Stiles was pretty sure he was going to pass out from the flow of blood from his head to his cock. Jesus fuck. “All right. We’ll stick with last night’s green-yellow-red pattern so you can tell me how you’re doing. I want an extra safeword in place tonight, though, just in case.”

“Wolfsbane?” Derek offered, but Stiles shook his head.

“Why not?” Isaac asked.

“Because it’s a pretty common word around here, and while it wouldn’t necessarily come up during sex, it could, depending on what we were doing,” Stiles said. “Safewords can change, sure, but I’d rather not start with one that could be misconstrued.”

Derek frowned. “Basil?” He was looking at their spice rack.

Stiles considered. It was a short word, easy to remember, wouldn’t come up in the course of anything they did in the bedroom. “Can you remember that?” he asked Derek, who nodded. “All right, then your safeword is basil. If anything gets to be too much, use that word, and we stop immediately.”

“All right. I’m. Uh. I’m going to go shower.” Derek put the bowl of sauce away in the fridge and left the kitchen. Stiles let out a long breath and leaned on the sink ledge for a moment.

“You okay?” Isaac asked quietly, coming up behind stiles and nuzzling his hair.

Stiles nodded, turning his head and stealing a kiss. “I’m fine. Knowing what’s coming is simultaneously a turn on and a little scary, because I know how much work Derek is going to be.”

“Is there any way I can help you?” Isaac asked.

“Maybe. We’ll check with Derek after he’s done in his shower. He may want you directly involved, with him instead of helping me.” Stiles stole another kiss and shut off the water. “Let’s finish here, and we can go upstairs.”

They found Derek still in the shower, obviously doing his best to get as clean as possible. “Time to be done,” Stiles said, causing Derek to jerk as though startled. “Wait, did you actually not hear us coming?”

“Was thinking about what’s coming,” Derek said, turning around. Though the wavy glass of the shower door, Stiles could see Derek’s erection, so stiff that it was sticking straight out from his body.

Stiles smirked. “Five minutes, baby, or you’ll get a punishment,” he said. When Derek’s mouth opened to protest, he raised his eyebrow. “Think very carefully before you speak, and consider the consequences of what you’re about to say.” He watched Derek pause, think, and shut his mouth. “Good boy.” he spun on his heel and headed out to the bedroom that was his by the rules they’d set up at the beginning of their all living together.

There was a box in his closet, locked against inquisitive packmates. He knelt and unlocked the combination, studying what was inside. The toy box with paddles, straps, cuffs, cock rings, and everything else he’d gathered the few years he’d been learning under Master James. Stiles considered, and then pulled out a sturdy leather covered wooden paddle, a leather strap, and after a second’s thought, a plain wooden paddle.

Closing the box and shoving it back in the closet, Stiles stood and headed back to the master bedroom. Isaac was kissing Derek slowly, towel in his hands and drying him off.

“Derek, do you want Isaac to be involved with you, or helping me during this scene?” Stiles asked when Isaac finally raised his head.

Derek considered, the thought process actually visible on his face Stiles really wasn’t use to this more vulnerable Derek. “I want to blow him while you’re spanking me,” he finally said.

Stiles sighed. “You can’t,” he said quietly, a little regretful. When both Derek and Isaac frowned, he continued. “Consider what you’re actually asking. You want to have your mouth around Isaac’s cock while I apply my hand and wood to your ass. What if it hurts more than you expect? What’s your involuntary reaction?”

Isaac got it first, eyes widening as his hand instinctively covered his crotch. That movement made it click for Derek, and he winced. “Okay, you’re right. I can see why that would be a bad idea.”

Stiles dropped his supplies on the bed and came up to Derek. He slid his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugged him close, kissing him deeply. “You can suck him when I’m fucking you,” he said, his voice a little raspy as his cock twitched at the thought. When both Derek and Isaac moaned, Stiles grinned in victory. “I’ll ask again. Do you want Isaac involved with you or helping me?”

“I want him where he can help me if I need it,” Derek said.

“All right.” Stiles kissed Derek again, and then released him. “On the bed, hands and knees.” When Derek obeyed, Stiles peeled off everything he was wearing, and then pulled on a pair of basketball shorts over his bare ass. Something non-confining for his rock hard erection, but that would keep him contained until it was time. “Isaac, get him ready.”

Isaac gave him a startled look. "Ready?”

Stiles raised an amused eyebrow. “Lube and stretching. He wants to be fucked after being spanked; he needs to be ready for it.”

Isaac’s eyes widened a little bit, but he immediately went to work, sliding a lubed finger into Derek’s ass. Derek hissed, back arching a little bit, but Stiles steadied him. He dragged his hand up Derek’s back, pressing firmly to give Derek something else to focus on. He sat on the bed next to Derek, and turned his face up so that Stiles could kiss him. Derek’s eyes were a little bit dazed, and Stiles had to wonder if Derek would be the easier one to drop into sub space.

“You said you wanted my hand and then a paddle,” he murmured, scratching lightly at Derek’s scalp. “Is that still what you want? Or would you like a paddle and then my hand?”

Derek blinked hard, obviously working to focus. Stiles knew why; Isaac was devilish with his fingers, and made it very hard to focus on anything else. “The second,” he finally said. “Paddle and then your hand.”

Stiles nodded. “Paddle then hand it is,” he said, stealing another kiss. “Isaac?”

“Two fingers,” Isaac said, and then pressed hard on Derek’s prostate, judging by the moan and shudder. “How many do you want?”

“At least three. I know he likes to feel it when we fuck him, but he’s going to tighten back up some during all this, so let’s make sure I don’t actually hurt him.” Stiles kept scratching lightly at Derek’s scalp as he spoke, smirking to himself as his lover pressed into the caress, silently begging for more.

It didn’t take long for Isaac to signal to stiles that Derek was ready. As they switched places, Stiles stole a kiss from Isaac. “Stay by his head and watch his face. Make sure he doesn’t try and take more than he actually can.” He picked up the leather covered paddle as he moved into place behind Derek.  
He slid his hand over Derek’s ass, squeezing gently. “What’s your safeword, Derek?”

“Basil or red. Yellow if I need you to slow down or stop for a minute. Green if I’m okay,” Derek chanted.

“Good boy,” Stiles told him, and placed the flat side of the paddle against Derek’s skin. “What are you right now?”

“Green.”

Stiles smiled and pulled the paddle back. He brought it down on Derek’s ass four times quickly, but relatively lightly. He wanted to warm Derek’s skin and muscles up a little before he really settled in. He had a hunch that Derek could, and would, take a lot, especially in paddlings and that his arm would get sore and tired long before Derek was willing to give up. Now, his skin turned barely pink.

“More,” Derek said, looking back to see Stiles. “Please?”

Stiles snorted. “Oh you’re getting more,” he promised. “Don’t worry about that.” Since this wasn’t a punishment Stiles didn’t worry about avoiding a rhythm, and set to turning Derek’s ass slowly pink. It flushed, first a light pink, and then slowly creeping toward a bright, warm flush. Stiles watched Derek’s body slowly loosen and start to move with each swat. Isaac kept Derek’s head resting against his stomach, fingers tangled in the dark hair.

“What color, baby?” Stiles asked as he traded the leather covered paddled for the less forgiving wooden one.

It took Derek a minute to answer, and when he did, his voice was starting to sound drugged. “Green,” he said, low and easy. Stiles smirked, recognizing a submissive that was starting to slip into headspace. Isaac looked at Stiles, looking startled, and that just made Stiles smirk more.

“Good,” he said, and immediately started paddling again. This time, his goal was a deep, deep red, and he wasted no time applying himself to the task. He rained down sharp, solid thwacks against Derek’s ass, making Derek pant and press against Isaac. Stiles was impressed with Derek’s movements. They were instinctive, obviously, but he was moving with the blows, not trying to tense up and pull away. It was obvious how much he was enjoying this, even before Stiles took into account the leaking erection hanging between Derek’s thighs.

He reached around and wrapped his hand around Derek, stroking him slowly. The change in his position brought him closer to Derek’s body, and didn’t let him put as much power behind the paddling, but that was all right in Stiles’ mind. He didn’t want to overload Derek yet. He kept the blows slow and heavy, winding Derek back down.

As he slowed to a stop, Derek’s ragged breathing surged through his blood in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And, if he was honest, never this intensely. He pressed his hand against Derek’s ass, feeling the heat radiating from the red cheeks he’d spanked so thoroughly. Derek’s whimper made him smile.

“What color?” he asked.

“Ye...yellow,” Derek said. The hesitation in the middle of the word had Stiles letting go of Derek and moving around to crouch at his boyfriend’s head, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward.

“Yellow, huh? Hurts?” Stiles fingers worked into Derek’s hair, finding Isaac’s already there. Still there, probably; Stiles doubted Isaac had stopped.

Derek’s slight nod was telling. Stiles gently nudged Derek’s face upward, and smiled at the drugged look he saw. Headspace, and probably loving it. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be this easy all the time. Probably not even most of the time. He had the benefit of newness and surprise on his side, and a boyfriend that felt a little left out from the night before. The desire to please was innate in Derek--he’d been a beta for twenty-four years--and he wanted this.

Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek, slow and easy. He nipped gently at Derek’s lips, soothing away the sting with his tongue. He didn’t want to pull his submissive out of headspace, but he did want to reel him back from the edge he’d crept toward. Derek liked kissing, could spend hours making out with either of them, and Stiles knew it would have a grounding effect.

It did. When Stiles finally pulled away from that all too enticing mouth, Derek looked a little less wrecked. No less down, though. If anything, he looked a little more dazed. “I’m going to use my hand now, and then I’m going to fuck you. Do you want to suck Isaac’s cock when I do?”

Isaac’s moan was echoed by Derek. “Yes,” he rasped out, nodding his head a little. “Please?”

“Of course,” Stiles said. “You’re taking this so well. Your ass is the prettiest shade of red right now.” He caressed Derek’s cheek and kissed him again. “You ready?”

Derek swallowed and nodded. “Green again,” he said, and then bit his lip. “May I...” he trailed off.

Stiles frowned slightly. “You’re both really bad at asking for what you want.”

Derek flushed. “May I have another kiss before you...?” he asked, the words almost smooshing together in his rush to get them out.

Stiles immediately kissed him again, absently noting that a submissive, headspace-y Derek was an interesting thing. Innocent, in a way, desperate to please, needing reassurance...all things that submissives tended to be, but seemed at odds with Mr. I’m-The-Alpha Hale. He pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on giving Derek the kiss he asked for, deep and possessive.

When he broke away and stood again, he nodded at Isaac. “You, too,” he said, seeing the want on his other boyfriend’s face. Isaac leaned in for a kiss, which made Stiles laugh. He kissed him, quick and fierce, and then nodded at Derek. “Him. Kiss him.”

Isaac flushed a little and obeyed. Stiles watched his boys make out for a moment, curious to see if anyone fought for dominance. If either of them would, he actually thought it might be Isaac, right now. Derek was a little too far gone, and was naturally submissive in a way Isaac wasn’t. As he watched, Stiles realized that, in a way, he was right. Isaac didn’t fight for it, though; he just took it.

Filing the information away, he circled back around behind Derek, sliding his hands over hot, red flesh. Stiles shoved off his shorts, kicking them away from the bed, picked up the condom that had been abandoned in the folds of the covers, and rolled it on, slicking himself with lube. He couldn’t catch any STIs from Isaac or Derek, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get something as mundane as a UTI, plus it was just less messy to use a condom, so he always did. Putting it on now meant that when Derek was ready, Stiles could go straight to fucking him, and anything to make fucking happen faster right now was a plus.

He slid his hands over Derek’s ass again, warning him what was coming, and then started spanking. Stiles didn’t spank hard; he didn’t have to. Derek was so sensitive that the lightest smack was having an effect. Derek jolted and whined, moving with the spanking in the most gorgeous way.

“Look at you,” he murmured, unable to keep his mouth shut any more. “Your ass is cherry red, you’re in obvious pain, and you’re still asking me for more. You are craving this, each smack of my hand. I can see it in how you’re moving.” He paused the spanking to gently press his fingers into Derek’s hole, two of them. “You want my cock here, but you don’t get it yet. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers free, sliding them down to Derek’s balls, and up the hard length of his cock, stroking fast and rough a few times.

“No, I’m not taking you yet, but soon.” Stiles let go, and went back to spanking Derek. The blows were sharper now, quick, staccato slaps of hand on flesh that left brief white marks on the bright red skin before melting away to match the rest of Derek’s abused flesh. The only regret Stiles had about this was that the marks would be gone long before morning.

“Stiles,” Isaac finally said, pulling his attention back up to where Isaac was cradling Derek’s head against his abdomen again. Isaac didn’t say anything else, but Stiles saw what Isaac wanted him to see.

Derek was crying. Not sobbing, but a few tears, probably of need and the sting of his ass, had tracked down his cheeks. His mouth was open, and he was breathing soft moaning pants each time Stiles touched his ass. His eyes were closed, and his body was telling Stiles that it was time.

He immediately shifted his position, lined his cock up, and slid slowly but smoothly into Derek’s ass. He didn’t stop pressing, knowing Derek could take this, wanted the burn of penetration to be steady and demanding. Stiles watched Derek’s face as he moved, only stopping when he physically couldn’t go any farther, hips pressed tight against Derek’s ass. He stayed there for a few moments letting Derek’s gasps fade, let Isaac gently turn Derek’s head and guide his cock into Derek’s eager mouth.

Stiles looked up at met Isaac’s eyes, grinning at the blissful expression Isaac’s face. Derek’s greedy, sloppy sucking must feel like heaven right now. Stiles pulled his hips back and thrust forward again, making sure to let skin slap skin to give Derek just a little more pain with his pleasure. The resultant moan had Isaac gasping from the vibrations and Stiles grinning with pure dominant delight.

The pace he set was rough, designed to push everyone toward the edge of orgasm in a headlong rush. He didn’t want to draw this out tonight--that was a game for another time. He wanted his boys to come and he wanted to come, too, buried inside the hot ass he was fucking. Stiles reached around and wrapped his fingers around Derek, letting the force of his thrusts provide the movement.

Derek whined around Isaac’s cock, not getting nearly enough friction. He didn’t stop what he was doing though, sucking hard and desperate and needy. Stiles rewarded him with a firmer grip and full strokes, both of his hand and his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer and he would make them come before him if it killed him.

Isaac went first, with a gasp, fingers buried in Derek’s hair to hold him in place. He fucked Derek’s face with short jabs, coming down his throat. Derek moaned, more of a rumble in his throat than a true vocalization, and it throbbed with every thrust of Isaac’s. Stiles grit his teeth at the sight and twisted his hand on the next upstroke, the way he knew Derek loved.

That did the trick and Derek was coming over Stiles’ fingers, body shuddering with every pulse of his own orgasm. The muscles in his ass clamped down tight around Stiles, and he growled at the sensation. Stiles let go of Derek’s cock once he’d stopped coming, and grabbed Derek’s hips, fucking him hard.

Derek took it. His body, loose from orgasm and spanking, moved with Stiles’ thrusts, making them deeper, harder, and that much better for both of them. Stiles thrust a handful more times, and let out a sharp yell, plunging deep into Derek as he came.

Isaac was the first one of them to move, sliding off the bed and moving the paddles out of the way. He paused next to Stiles, biting his lip and looking unsure of what to do next.

“Hold his hips,” Stiles said, his voice raspy. “When I pull out, help him down slowly. Don’t let him fall.” As soon as Isaac’s hands were in place, Stiles held the base of the condom and pulled out, sliding off the bed. While Isaac followed his instructions and slowly lowered Derek’s now completely boneless body to the bed, Stiles went into the bathroom to throw away the condom and get some last supplies.

“Here,” he said, handing a soft cloth to Isaac. “Carefully clean him up, and I do mean carefully. Just his crack and hole if you can. I didn’t use a cane or anything, and he’ll heal pretty fast either way, but I don’t want to irritate his skin any worse.”

Isaac studied his face for a moment. “Adapting human techniques to werewolves is weird, isn’t it?” he finally said, and applied himself carefully to the task at hand.

Stiles snorted, and nodded. “It is.” He took a quick trip up the bed to use the second cloth on Derek’s face, gently wiping away the tear tracks. “Hey,” he said when Derek’s eyes slitted open and focused blearily on him. “You okay?”

Derek nodded a little, giving Stiles a tiny smile. “Very okay. Ass burns, though.”

Stiles laughed and gave him a soft kiss. “Yeah, well you took a pretty thorough spanking. Your ass is glowing.”

“Can I see?”

Stiles frowned thoughtfully. “I could take a picture, I guess?” he offered, deciding that mirrors would be a pain in the ass, no pun intended. Plus, Derek probably couldn’t walk yet. He hunted for his phone, finding it on the dresser. He came back and took a couple of pictures of Derek’s very, very red cheeks, and handed the phone to Isaac. “There,” he said, smirking as Isaac stared at the pictures along with Derek. “One thoroughly spanked ass.”

He stayed where he was at the bottom of the bed, swinging up and over to settle across the back’s of Derek’s thighs. He snapped open the lid of the bottle of Lubriderm he held in his hand, causing both werewolves to look at him. “Lotion,” he said, holding it up. “It’ll help mellow the burn, and keep your skin from getting too damaged. Should do this before, too, but...”

Isaac gave him an amused look. “He’s going to heal as good as new, so why are you bothering?” he asked.

“It’s called aftercare,” Stiles said, rubbing lotion together between his palms before lowering them to Derek’s ass and slowly rubbing it in. “In Derek’s case, it’s less about the healing and more about making sure he knows I’m here, that I love him, and that I will always take care of him.”

Derek craned his head a little, eyes a little more focused as he looked at Stiles. “I do know,” he said, his voice completely shot. “I love you, too.”

Stiles smiled a little, and carefully worked more lotion into Derek’s ass.


End file.
